


Spirits underground

by StripedScribe



Series: Febuwhump2021 [9]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Amputation, Buried Alive, Character Death, Dismemberment, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29307699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: Deadpool, the merc with a mouth. Buried underground after they got bored of playing with him, stuck in a tiny prison.He’d tried, he’d tell the others later, that he had shouted as they threw him in the ground, that he was still alive, that he couldn’t die, and that he really didn’t want to be buried alive.But the bitches these people were, they’d ignored him and just shovelled more dirt on top. Absolute fuckers. And now he couldn’t hear anything beside himself, and there really wasn’t that much space to move underground. If he was claustrophobic he’d be panicking.Day 9 FebuWhump [Buried Alive]
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson
Series: Febuwhump2021 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136723
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Spirits underground

**Author's Note:**

> All the awful warnings are relevant to Deadpool, so it's not quite as bad as it seems!   
> Stay safe

He hadn’t asked to be buried, not really. He was sure they thought they were doing the right thing, burying a vigilante. They’d just not made sure of the suit, forgotten his powers. Yes, they all wore red, yeah it could be a little confusing, but c’mon. Everyone knew, the one with horns, Daredevil. Webs? You had little Spiderman. Weapons? Deadpool, who, you know, COULDN’T DIE.

He’d assumed that was why they’d picked him up, for their wicked little experiments. And yeah, cutting all his limbs off made it a bit more difficult for him to act alive, and had led to them deciding he was haunted. Throwing all of his bits into a bag and burying them in the dark.

He just had to wait for his hands to come back. Then he could escape, he was sure of it.

It hadn’t felt like the hole was very deep when he was falling into it. He could climb out, break this plastic bag they’d stuffed him in. If he could check his pockets, he might even have a phone on him, and could get the team to give him a hand. But that again, needed those hands.

He’d tried, he’d tell the others later, that he had shouted as they threw him in the ground, that he was still alive, that he couldn’t die, and that he really didn’t want to be buried alive.

But the bitches these people were, they’d ignored him and just shovelled more dirt on top. Absolute fuckers. And now he couldn’t hear anything beside himself, and there really wasn’t that much space to move underground. If he was claustrophobic he’d be panicking.

Okay, maybe it didn’t even take claustrophobia to panic in this situation. He just wanted out. Did Spidey have that tracker on his phone still? If his phone was here, he could find him, right?

Because some sort of logic in his brain was kicking in and realising he really wasn’t sure how moles dug out from under the ground. And he wasn’t as smart as a mole, or a rat, to be able to dig like that.

He tried to will one of his arms to grow ahead of the others, to let him be able to grab his phone, try and send an SOS. He couldn’t tell if it was working.

He could tell that there was a hand on top of his face, and that it was hopefully his own, but it really wasn’t attached to the rest of him.

What the hell did these people even want? If they’d waited an hour or so they could have really seen the freakshow, but they just got bored of him, or convinced he was some sort of spirit. Maybe it was the jokes. And the fact it wasn’t normal to laugh as your legs were removed from you, but it didn’t hurt anymore and he knew they would grow back.

Speaking of, his foot itched. And he was pretty sure, in this moment of time, he didn’t have either of those. Just visions of spiders climbing in through the bag to crawl over his body, creeping up phantom limbs.

“But there’s no space in here for you little spiders. Unless you’re friends with Spider-Man, in which case cuddle all you like. Or ideally go tell him I’m stuck in here and I could use a hand or two.”

There really wasn’t enough space in here to breathe. At least if he died he’d come back, but it would really slow up this limb growing session he had going on. Hah, body-building.

Oh he had real shoulders again now. He could wriggle, try to get a little more space around his face, if this hand would get out the way. Short little growing nubs for arms, and he hoped for tiny baby hands at the end. Still too short to reach his phone pocket, which thankfully he’d moved up from a pouch on his leg, after it kept getting smashed. Because he wasn’t sure where his legs were anymore.

He was going to look like an absolute idiot when he got out. He’d need a new suit, again, unless he dragged the bag with him and tried to piece together the bits with a lot more tape.

Pretend it was a new fashion, who needed sleeves and legs and gloves. Oh and shoes. He needed to steal his shoes from his old legs, and hope his shoe size hadn’t changed.

It had done that once, for some bizarre reason, when he’d lost his feet in a freak accident. Still couldn’t understand why. Twisted game from someone up there. Making him buy new shoes, let out seams in his suit. These things cost money, and time, which he’d rather spend, you know, working, or having fun.

Anyway, hands, wriggling, trying to find his phone. A tap on the side, 10 times, emergency alerts to the rest of Team Red. They better hurry up and find him. He couldn’t even check his phone to see if it had worked, couldn’t see the light from it, a faint buzz that could have been his imagination the only response.

He hummed a little song, boredom setting in, a crick in his back he just wanted to stretch out. The itch of soft baby skin turning into scars as it stretched and stretched. He hoped it was all growing in properly, he was all bent up here, and the last thing he wanted was misshapen bones because they grew in the wrong way underground.

Visions of having to chop them off again flashed in his thoughts, and he hurriedly chased them away. It was going to be fine. They’d find him.

Eventually.

Hopefully before he finished growing because then he’d have nothing to distract himself from, and this fic would get really boring without those points of reference.

He had feet again, and he still couldn’t scratch that phantom itch. Feet, hands, everything else important. Just waiting on his team who are being uncomfortably slow today.

Movement above him. The ground shifting, the slow movements of a shovel. A hand on the top of his head, grabbing the bag which he’d long burst through with his new legs, and finally freeing him from the darkness.

“About time guys, I’ve regrown everything now.” He accepted the offered hand from Spidey, dropping his old limbs and climbing out of the hole.

“You lost everything?” Peter looked him up and down, noticing the bare legs, where the suit met skin.

“Yup, then they thought my body was haunted so decided they’d had enough of the experiments.”

Matt just shook his head, there was no point questioning their lives anymore, especially Wade’s. “Of course they did.”

“But I’m kinda cold, so I’m just going to head home now, and be glad that although its cold and dark out, it is dark out, and only the idiots are going to be subjected to this sight on my walk home.”

“Or, you know, we did rent a car to get here.”

He froze, looking behind him from where he’d started to march off. “You rented a car.”

“Yup. No one was going to say no to Daredevil, and they didn’t want any proof of ID. Much quicker than parkour.”

“Please tell me you drove Webs. As much you are a child and I hate the idea of you driving, at least you would have followed the lights. Please tell me you followed the lights.”

They both just laughed, and led Wade in the direction of the roughly parked car.

“Red? Webs? Who drove. How many people did you hit? How many laws did you break? NO LET ME DRIVE US HOME I HAVE A LICENSE.”


End file.
